Novel & Cerita Oh Ophelia

Lucian reminded him. "Who? Ophelia?" he inquired with surprise. He didn't know that well about Ophelia. From the she reacted towards Jonathan's adopted daughter, whose name I don't want to take, she is the type to hold a grudge if they hurt someone she likes. She is the loyal kind. That's why she volunteered to pour that chemical on her head, Darius thought "Yes, that girl" Lucian confirmed his suspension. Darius hid his amused smile behind his palm.

She treated the girl's wounds first, then made sure to give her water. “Drink, it will give you more strength,” Ophelia said with a smile, but beneath that smile was pure evil. She had poisoned the water, and Khloé had finally fallen into her wicked trap. 'Another one wasted' Ophelia cackled inwardly.

her dismissive glance swept over Wren, from tousled hair down to pale, gripping fingers, “I don’t fight over random scumbags.” Wren recoiled as if slapped, her face contorting with an anger sharpened by frustration. “You’re not even the same Ophelia. You used to—” Ophelia paused with her hand on the door, cool and unruffled. “No. I’m not,” she murmured, cold satisfaction sharpening her smile. “And that should worry you.” She stepped out without looking back. Wren stared after her, quivering with indignation and confusion, the taste of defeat unexpectedly bitter.

Ophelia stepped on stage, a little shaken by the conversation she'd had with Mr. Hades. The soft light on the Mines glowed just a bit. He stayed. He sat in his spot, but he seemed more invested in his business talks than usual. She grabbed the mic, her dress brushing along the stage. Ophelia sat in the chair, breathing in. • • • "Take me to the rooftop," His eyes snapped to hers. "I wanna see the world when I stop breathing, turning blue

Just leveled Ophelia with a look that could melt steel. "Get. Out."

Ophelia's POV Sitting down in the lavishly furnished living room of Dominic Blackwood's home I couldn't help but recall my conversation with him at the hospital two days ago. "Let’s discuss our CONTRACT marriage, shall we?" He had said. "Contract marriage?" I asked, my brows furrowed in confusion. "You see, Miss–" "Ophelia, my name is Ophelia," I corrected. "Aren't you supposed to be in a coma?" I asked, even though I know I sound stupid right now. He was standing in front of me, that's all the answers I should need.

Alessandre closed his eyes. Of course she did. Because Ophelia had never walked away from a mystery. Not once. Not ever. The screen seemed pleased. A new message appeared. Then another. Then another. One line at a time. Slowly. Deliberately. As if each word mattered. YOU BELIEVE YOU WERE CHOSEN BY THEM Another line. YOU WERE NOT Ophelia’s heart stopped. Another. THEY DISCOVERED YOU Another. I CHOSE YOU FIRST Silence.

"Ophelia, where are you? Dinner is ready." An aged woman called out as she served the meals that she had prepared. Ophelia was seen standing not too far from the little house, on the green grass in front of a stream staring at the moonlight. A gentle breeze blew across her face and memories from the past flooded in. She closed her eyes and sighed. So, things were meant to be this hurtful. A little girl tapped her on the shoulder and smiled.

The Delta laughed as she ran up the grand stairs, her dress soaked with her tears. However, the moment Ophelia was safely in the privacy of her rooms, she moved towards the bathroom and pulled out the button she had stolen from his suit. Right now, the one she had used to replace it was a tiny bomb. With her eyes focused on the mirror, she reached for her burner phone and typed a message, 'High Target 10's shirt. Detonate the bomb.' Exactly five minutes later, she received a message, 'Done. Target wiped out.' Ophelia Storm could barely believe her eyes, and had to zoom in severally.

Ex-husband. I had sent him the divorce papers, and he had signed them without hesitation. I stopped being Ophelia Gray a week ago, and my sister would be today. She had the audacity to send me the invitation, as if mocking my misery once more. She was relishing my pain, just like my father.